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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037582">building bridges</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy'>days4daisy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tenet (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Neil's Had a Day, The Protagonist Notices, Time Shenanigans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:20:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The bottom three buttons of Neil’s dress shirt are not aligned. One is completely undone, the other two fasten into the wrong holes.</p><p>He eyes Neil pointedly. “What kind of disaster?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>building bridges</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/gifts">spock</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So! That was a complete disaster. How did yours go?”</p><p>Neil looks like he’s seen better days. He’s lost the suit jacket he started the day with somewhere in the past few hours. His once impeccable hair has devolved into a mess of strays, and his face is hot, beads of sweat collected on his brow. Neil's remaining clothes are wrinkled to the point of seeming thrift shop-sourced. </p><p>The bottom three buttons of Neil’s dress shirt are not aligned. One is completely undone, the other two fasten into the wrong holes.</p><p>He eyes Neil pointedly. “What kind of disaster?”</p><p>Neil frowns, until some kind of understanding blossoms. Despite his burdened appearance, Neil breaks into a smile. “Oh, the usual, you know. Did you get the lead on Tanner?”</p><p>He did, and he tells Neil as much as he needs to know, but not without one more look down.</p><p>***</p><p>Later, he tells Ives he’ll be tasking Neil solo from now on. Whatever side detail Ives has Neil on, he wants him pulled immediately.</p><p>Ives calls him an asshole, which isn’t anything new. He also looks confused. That part isn’t so expected.</p><p>***</p><p>Neil drinks vodka tonics like water. He’s had hours to clean up, but he’s chosen to remain in his state of wreck. His unlaced tie hangs in a limp hug around his shoulders. He hasn’t bothered to fix his shirt buttons. The only improved part of Neil is his face. The sweat is gone, but the blush isn’t - only now, the heat is from drink, not the mission. He sinks deep into his chair, long legs kicked out in front of him.</p><p>“You’ve got a bed upstairs,” he reminds.</p><p>Neil laughs, warm and easy. “I’d miss your company too much up there, boss.” It’s the first time he remembers Neil calling him that. </p><p>“I’m tasking you solo from now on,” he says. “I told Ives. No more side trips. What you do goes through me first.”</p><p>Neil smiles. “Ah, I see. You think it was Ives.”</p><p>Neil doesn’t explain, and he isn’t about to ask. But he does think it over. ‘You think it was Ives.’ It means he assumed wrong. It also means it was <i>someone</i>.</p><p>“I think you should get cleaned up,” he says.</p><p>Neil answers, “I think you should join me.” He has his little smirk on his face, a look that knows too much for someone on a need-to-know basis. Not for the first time, he wonders who Neil is. Where did he come from? How much does he really know?</p><p>In the silence, Neil’s shoulders sink, and he sighs at the ceiling. “Well then, I’ve worn out my welcome.” He leaves a half-full glass on the table when he stands. “You know where to find me,” Neil says. He rubs a hand through hair already displaced. The strands fall as they were before, in finger-mussed waves.</p><p>“Anything else you do comes from me,” he says. “I pulled you into this. It’s my responsibility.”</p><p>“<i>I’m</i> your responsibility, you mean?” A laugh follows the question; Neil doesn't sound mad. “G’night, boss," he says.</p><p>He lets Neil leave, but he watches the exit. Neil’s untucked shirt gaps between his slacks and skin. The small of Neil’s back forms a gentle curve. </p><p>It feels like deja vu.</p><p>***</p><p>Neil is hot from adrenaline. Sweat dots his brow, and his once manicured suit has long since fallen out of shape.</p><p>Neil has the upper levels, boss has below. He tucks his pistol back into its holster at his waist. There’s blood on his shirt. Must have scraped his arm in the chase. This day has become quite the cluster.</p><p>He can’t say he's surprised by the elbow that catches him in the side, the way this day is going. His breath whooshes out, but they are in a side room before he can fight back. A simple king-bed hotel room sans guests. A stranger's luggage sits on the floor, a volcano of cotton button-ups and khaki shorts. </p><p>Neil finally sees him. “Jesus,” he grumbles, “thought you were downstairs.”</p><p>But the outfit is different. Stealth blacks, no suit. Bullet-proof vest. Deeper age lines at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“Ah. You <i>are</i> downstairs,” Neil says, and he wonders if another him is around too. Time has become a slippery slope over the years. Too many pasts, presents, and futures. His line is a scrambled pile of newspaper clippings.</p><p>“We were never here,” he says, with an authority Neil hasn’t heard since he stepped backwards. Some buried nostalgic thing squeezes Neil's chest.</p><p>Then, he kisses Neil, and Neil's last shred of resolve splinters. He kisses like he knows everything. Like he remembers Neil better than Neil remembers himself. Neil doesn’t care that his shirt gets ripped open - which says a lot,  it's a nice shirt. His whole body flushes at a lost memory found.</p><p>“I'm still here though,” Neil protests, "or I should be, anyway." Heart pounding, needing too much to pull away.</p><p>“I know,” he says. “But you can take a break, I think.”</p><p>“A break?” Neil’s laugh chokes when teeth scrape his neck. “This from the guy who won't drink on the job.”</p><p>“I’ll make exceptions,” he says, smiling.</p><p>Turns out, so will Neil.</p><p>***</p><p>He’s at the door when Neil answers.</p><p>Seeing him is harder than Neil ever expected. Gaps hang between them that shouldn’t exist. That’s the funny thing about time. They had gaps in Neil’s time once too, spaces between colleagues that filled over the years. But Neil barely remembers those early days, back when Neil first saw his lips form around the word “Tenet.”</p><p>Neil remembers when chasms became bridges and professionalism became a tether. Their easy humor and unspoken understandings. The heated stare Neil would get when he’s wanted and won’t regret saying yes.</p><p>Tonight, he’s stiff when he enters, and Neil is riding the tail end of a buzz like a fire on its last gasps. Neil managed to change at least, a t-shirt and joggers sitting on just-showered skin. He doesn’t need to know how long that shower took. How Neil turned the temperature up and let the steam sit heavy on his tongue. Neil turned red under the spray, goosebumps still craving a phantom touch.</p><p>He never told Neil how hard this would be. Neil never would have imagined, not even with everything he studied. Everything he was book smart enough to know.</p><p>He steps inside without being invited and helps himself to a seat on Neil’s bed. Neil leans on the closed door, eyeing him with amusement. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Neil says.</p><p>“I didn’t get your full debrief,” he replies.</p><p>Neil shrugs. “Not much to tell. I chased some guys, they got away. But the way I understand it, they weren’t the ones we were after. You got the key from Tanner’s door hand. We’ll run it through the readouts from the security system. Work out access points. The rest is all you. Need-to-know, as I recall.”</p><p>“You know a lot for a guy who’s need-to-know.”</p><p>Neil smiles. “I’m perceptive. I thought that’s what you liked about me.”</p><p>“You’re too perceptive,” he says. “And I’m still deciding whether I like you.”</p><p>“Rude...but fair, I suppose.” Neil joins him at the bed. “That all you need, boss? Got myself cleaned up like you suggested. Think a good night’s sleep is next on the agenda.”</p><p>His eyes always give away when his mind is hard at work.</p><p>When he looks up at Neil, he frowns. “You keep calling me that. You never have before.”</p><p>“What, 'boss'?” Neil shrugs. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? You’re tasking me solo now and all.”</p><p>He makes a noncommittal noise in reply. Neil would gladly kiss the scowl from his mouth. It was a favorite pastime once to turn his disapproval into acceptance with his lips alone.</p><p>He stands, filling out his button down and slacks with easy confidence. He holds himself like few men could ever hope to. Makes sense, he’s the light and Neil is destined to be the moth. What’s happened has happened and will happen, after all. </p><p>“I don’t trust you,” he says.</p><p>He follows with a kiss, a surge forward that even Neil of a time beyond does not see coming. Neil should play it off, do anything other than respond. But it’s like a dam broken. He’s given too much to this man, and he’ll keep giving, he’ll give everything. Neil doesn’t know when or how exactly, but he knows it’s coming, and he’s ok with it. He’ll always be ok no matter how many chances he has to do it over.</p><p>He has a commanding presence, casually self-assured. He’s different from earlier today, not as easy, angrier and asserting. But it’s him, and Neil wraps himself in the moment. Runs his hands over as much of him as he can touch through his clothes. Pushes his body close. Groans when he slides fingers through shower-wet hair, marring it with finger-shaped grooves.</p><p>Neil is short of breath when he speaks. “Well, I’ll go on trusting you, if that’s alright.”</p><p>His answer is to take Neil’s hand and pull him back towards the bed. In this stream or any other, Neil knows what the cue means. He follows along without one single complaint.</p>
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